


From Depths Unknown

by skyemaxwell



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Betrayal, F/M, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyemaxwell/pseuds/skyemaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after he nearly died, Naruto returns to Konoha a changed man. Heartaches, violence, sex and the past comes knocking and Naruto does not realize how deep the rabbit hole goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have other projects to work on, but I had to get this out of my system. Experimenting with a new writing style--it works in my head, but I want to hear what you think. Feedback is food for my creativity.
> 
> Cheers.

 

Smoke curled up from the glowing end of a cigarette, like a snake drunkenly raising its head to the dark sky. The city lights were stark against tanned, slightly scarred cheeks, disturbed once in awhile by the shadow of a passing car. His hair is bright, like corn, and it swayed with the night breeze. The smell of cooling summer night is nostalgic, and he shifts slightly against the leather seat of a 1950 Norton, tilting his neck slightly to catch the last lingering scent of a far-off memory: fireworks. Bright paper lanterns. Grass. Whispering in the shadows. Dark hair. Heat. A gasp, sweaty palms and soft, cool lips.

Blue eyes came sharply into focus as the memory was quickly put away. He frowned at the ashen remains of his cigarette, watching the embers give one last futile glow before dying out.

“That was my last one.” He murmured; shadows of dark hair, cool lips and pale skin dancing on the edge of his mind. Haunting him.

Wordlessly, he leaned deeper onto his bike: too aware of the cold, blunt end of the cigarette, now useless, hanging from his fingertips.

Unable to let go.

 

* * *

 

“For god’s sake, Uzumaki--”

“Don’t bring your god into this.” Naruto pointed out, slurping the last of the noodles from the bowl.

The ramen place at the corner of 8th was small, humble, and run by a small Japanese man and his daughter, Ayame. Naruto had stumbled into it back in college, drunk out of his mind and almost delirious with heartache.

Naruto gritted his teeth. The week was full of old memories, wasn't it?

“You know I’m the only one that can do it.” He said instead, drumming his fingers against the grimy, wooden table. It was an anxious habit-- which at the moment, was caused by Inuzuka Kiba, detective inspector extraordinaire.

“That doesn’t mean I can purposely involve a civilian.” Kiba argued, and Naruto knows he had this speech ready for weeks. “Hell, I could get fired for even telling you so much details about the case. You have no clearance for god’s--”

“Again, with the god.” Naruto mumbled. “Listen, Kiba. Detective. You came to me because you need me. ”

“You could be in danger.” Kiba insisted.

“Yes.” Naruto agreed. “Because I fit the bill, don’t I? Blonde hair, blue eyes. Scum of society.”

Kiba flinched.

“If what you’re saying is true, then I’m probably a dead-man walking.” Naruto felt silly for even saying it. “It would be a waste not to use me.”

“Do you want to die? Is this what this is about?” Kiba demanded.

Naruto gave a wry smile.

“Trust me, detective. If I wanted to die, I’d be dead a long time ago.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s over.”

Naruto blinked, wondering if he heard wrong. They were still catching their breath, their cooling skin sticking to the sheets. Evening air filtered through the curtains, barely disturbing the silence that opened like a chasm between them.

Naruto decided to take the first leap.

“What do you mean?”

His back was beautiful against the moonlight, Naruto thought, as he watched him getting dressed with some apprehension. Lethargy was creeping into his legs, and he was unable to shake off the feeling of hurtling straight into a train wreck.

“This thing between us. It’s over.”

Grief comes in stages. That’s what Naruto read in a book once. He never understood it, even as he stood neck deep in its jowls. Like a spectator to his own, personal apocalypse, he could only stand there and watch as his world fell apart.

Naruto wanted to say that he cried like a baby. Bawled. Beat his hands and shouted expletives and every name he could think of. But there was none of that. Only the quiet resignation and the sound of the final nail on the coffin. One he built for himself.

He did not say a word as the shadow, who had just moments ago filled him with so much life and passion, was now walking away, taking everything with him. And all that was left was a hollow shell.

And what else was there to do but shrivel up and waste away?

 

* * *

 

“This is Menma Namikaze.”

For a cop, Kiba was abysmal at lying. Naruto stood perfectly still, even as his companion shifted and fidgeted with discomfort. Four pairs of curious eyes were on them, and Naruto allowed them to appraise his body, his boyish good looks, accented by the lightness of his hair and the scars on his cheeks.

“He was the last known contact of our now-missing suspect--”

“And now he’s our bait.”

Naruto glanced over at the back of the office where the speaker, a young man with pale face, dark hair was smiling peaceably at him.

“He’s not--” Kiba bristled.

“Very good choice, Detective.” The speaker continued. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Sai, our forensic sketch artist.” Kiba said begrudgingly, as explanation. “He was the one who made the connection--”

“All Akatsuki’s mules were exactly the same, Mr. Namikaze.” Sai said pleasantly. “Blond, blue eyes, symmetrically pleasing features. All, of course, according to witness accounts.”

Naruto raised a brow.

“We’ve never actually gotten hold of any of our mysterious blonds.” The guy with the ponytail and rumpled clothes broke his silence. “They all disappear the moment we catch wind.”

Naruto hesitated.

“Wow.” He said instead.  

“We have a mole in our department.” The man--Nara, his name tag declared--waved a hand impatiently. “It’s fucking annoying as hell. How do we know you’re not another snitch?”

“He seems too perfect. It’s suspicious.” Says the guy wearing dark shades indoors.

The lone woman in the team, a pale girl with even paler eyes stayed silent in the background, like a lotus in a bed of rocks. Naruto wondered if she really was a police officer.

“I checked him, he’s clean.” Kiba rolled his eyes. “Come on guys, I did my homework.”

“Where did you find him?” Sai eyed him interestedly. Naruto spared him a wink. Habit.

Kiba hesitated.

“I was working my shift down at Kettner.” Naruto took pity on him. “Was approached by a regular of mine, who asked me if I wanted a higher paycheck.”

“Kettner.” Shades guy furrowed his brow. “Hey, isn’t that--”

“Suna territory.” Kiba agreed. “I was tailing our guy--”

“Are you a hooker?” Sai looked fascinated.

Naruto smiled.

“Damn it, Inuzuka.” Nara looked even more annoyed now.

“Can I fucking speak?” Kiba said crossly. “You bastards keep interrupting me--”

“I’m an artist.” Naruto interrupted smoothly. “But for the right price, I can be anything you want.”

“You brought us a goddamn hooker,” Nara ignored him, determined to tear Kiba a new one. “From fucking Suna territory. Do you have any idea the shitstorm this is gonna cause once the Kazekage gets wind--”

“Gaara won’t be a problem.”

Everyone stared at Naruto like he had spontaneously grown two heads. Naruto hid a bemused smile.

“Gaara, of the Sand? Yeah, he’s a friend of mine. He won’t bother you as long as you stay off his lawn.”

Nara, bless his heart, looked like he was about to get an aneurism.

“Am I allowed to fucking explain now?” Kiba muttered glumly.

Nara planted a hip on the wooden desk.

“Thrill me.”

 

* * *

 

“Fancy another?”

Naruto looked up from his dark mood as if resurfacing from deep waters, a coy smile already in place.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

He accepted the cigarette--menthols--and the light from a vaguely familiar face. It was the face of a regrettably forgettable man.

“Ah, tonight was a bad streak!”

With a regrettable gambling problem.

“Tough luck.” Naruto consoled, breathing deep.

The man had been showing up for weeks, skulking the slot machine bars and hitting up the scantily clad women around the corner. He would occasionally chat Naruto up but always left with the skinniest girl with the bad teeth. Meth heads, Naruto wrinkled his nose.

Ah, and there was his shadow.

Naruto surreptitiously eyed the black sedan rolling into view across the street. For whatever reasons, this utterly uninteresting man was being watched like a hawk. Naruto burst into rambunctious laughter on cue, keeping up the charade.

He was so boring, Naruto wanted to cry.

“Hey, listen.” The guy grinned, flashing yellowed, ravaged teeth. “So a buddy of mine is in town, and he’s a fucking roller, yeah? Needs some company while conducting business, you know the type. Interested?”

“I dunno if I’m the type.” Naruto replied airily. “I’m just a starving artist.”

“Oh trust me, you’re his type.” The man looked at him appraisingly, and Naruto stifled an eye-roll. He handed Naruto a simple name card.

“Here. Call me when you change your mind. You can make some serious cash.”

“I’ll think about it.” Naruto eyed the card even as the man walked away.

Manaka Michizo, Realtor. Huh.

Three days later, the card was sitting, crumpled, long forgotten in Naruto’s back pocket, when he was approached by someone decidedly more interesting.

“Let me guess.” Naruto tried his most charming smile. “Straight, never married, but always wanted to experiment.”

This one was tall, sturdy, with a rugged air of a man who lived on meat, and had never been comfortable in a tie. Case in point, the fidgeting.

“Three days ago, you were approached by a man--” came a gruff voice. 

“I was approached by many men.” Naruto interrupted, senses prickling. He regarded the man with a more careful eye, and noticed the shadow of a weapon holster under the brown coat.

“You a cop?” Naruto kept his tone light, resting a hand on his right hip where he kept his pocket knife. “Because if you are, I’m gonna have to ask for a warrant.”

Definitely a cop, Naruto thought, as he watched annoyance, then frustration dance across the man’s face. A very expressive cop.

“My name is Detective Kiba Inuzuka, and I work for the Konoha Police Force--”

Naruto looked up sharply. “This is Suna.”

“Obviously.” The man rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to cause trouble, I just need you to answer a few questions.”

“No can do, officer.” Naruto batted his eyes. “I don’t have to answer anything, and if you press the issue, that’s called harassment.”

The law was a funny thing, Naruto mused, as he watched the man seethe in frustration. Powerful and yet powerless at the same time. Judging by the darkness under his red-rimmed eyes, the poor detective was running on fumes. And just like that, Naruto was seized by sudden inspiration, and changed his mind.

“Tell you what, though. Why don’t you buy me a drink, and we can get to know each other, hm?”

This was crazy, Naruto knew. He was toying with dangerous fire. But his past was knocking on his door, prowling and rumbling like a starving beast, and he couldn’t resist taking a peek. Naruto took them to a local pub two blocks down,  where they were just a man and his twink sharing a drink.

“You were the one in the black car.” Naruto clinked his bottle against the officer’s, taking a swig. He enjoyed the flash of alarm and then petulance on the very expressive face. “Not very subtle, are you Officer?”

“Kiba. I’m off duty.” The man mumbled, downing his beer. “Another.”

“Easy.” Naruto signaled for the bartender, a quiet, balding man who never asked questions. “So, Kiba. What were you doing, skulking around the streets at night?”

“I was looking for somebody.”

“Clearly.”

Kiba accepted his second beer and stared at it glumly. Naruto waited patiently.

“Three days ago, you were approached by a man.” Kiba began again. “Average guy, dark hair. Mole on his left ear.”

He vaguely recalled noticing the mole.

“He showed up in the area recently.” Naruto commented, careful to keep his tone casual. “Likes to waste his money on the slot machines. Likes meth heads. But you already knew that.”

“He’s a drug dealer.”

Naruto paused. Huh. Maybe not so average after all.

“I’m not a user, if that’s what you’re implying--”

Kiba waved an impatient hand. “Clean, except for that one time you OD’d on pain meds. You’re not even a real smoker, are you?”

Ice sank in his stomach, and then a hot flash of anger.

“You looked me up? How rude.”

“I needed to know if you were an accomplice, or simply a coincidence.”

“Accomplice in what?” Naruto bit out.  

“In the biggest drug ring by the most notorious international criminal organization of the twentieth century.” Kiba groused, punctuating his words with a vicious slam of his mug on the bar table.  

Naruto blinked, thrown for a good three seconds, then tossed back his head and laughed.

“That’s a good one, officer. Kiba. I’m really tickled.”

Kiba scowled at him. “It’s not fucking funny--”

“Oh, give me break.” Naruto stabbed at the air. “You’re telling me Manaka Michizo, B+ guy, is neck-deep involved in an international drug cartel? Tell me you’re not serious.”

“He’s just a grunt, a nobody.” Kiba begrudgingly admitted. “But the rat will always lead back to the mother hole.”  

Naruto snorted. “You’re chasing shadows, officer.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” Kiba slammed a fist down. “For months now, we’ve been going in circles, chasing dead end after dead end.”

Naruto immediately noticed.

“So what’s changed?”

Despite himself, Kiba smirked, showing a pointed, perfectly sharp tooth.

“A pattern.”

Like moth, drawn to flame.

“What kind of pattern?”

“Classified.” Kiba said, with relish. “But you’re going to tell me everything you know.”

“I haven’t seen him since.” Naruto replied honestly. “You know that. I saw your car parked out on the same curb, but he hasn’t shown up once.”

“Three days ago, he gave you something.” Kiba had the intense look that Naruto associated with a hunter tracking its prey. “A business card. Why?”

Naruto should keep his mouth shut. Stay in the shadows, like he always had. But flame had the effect of diminishing shadows.

“Offered me a job.” Naruto replied nonchalantly.

Kiba’s wolfish grin turned triumphant.

“What?” Naruto was immediately on guard. “What is it?”

“Blondie.” Kiba stood, throwing down some bills. “If you know what’s best for you, you’re coming with me.”

Naruto scowled at him, ignoring his rapidly racing heart.

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because.” Kiba looked down at him, dead serious. “I can’t guarantee your safety if you stay here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would appreciate feedback! xoxo

It must have been a sight.

“He’s crashing again.”

“Doctor!”

“I need 1 mg of Epinephrine, stat!”

His heart had stopped a few times, they said, which was strange. One would think that after brushing so close to death a few times, things would be different when he woke up. Naruto swam into consciousness to the steady beeping sound of a hospital machine. He had almost died, the doctor told him. Naruto waited with bated breath for the epiphany, for the shock of life that brought him back to the sterile walls of the hospital.

Nothing.

Naruto cried then. Latched onto the doctor’s lab coat like a drowning man and wailed, at the top of his lungs, emptying angry tears, then bitter tears, then tears of regret, despair, and shame. He sobbed until his throat was raw, until there was literally nothing left to squeeze out from his eyes, and he sank back into darkness in bone-deep exhaustion.

The resident doctor was a tough woman who looked far younger than her years. She didn’t baby him like all the other nurses who tiptoed around him (Hysterical patient, they whispered, Suicidal), but never failed to check up on him every few hours. They did not speak much during the time Naruto was being weaned off the pain medication-- but then she turned out to be his assigned psychiatrist for the mandatory counseling.

“Do you know why you’re here?” She spoke in an even tone.

The couches were meant to be comfortable, but the material chaffed and smelled of chemicals in his hypersensitive state.

“I overdosed on pain medication.” Naruto said dully.

“Did you want to die?”

Tsunade, that was her name. It was on Naruto’s patient slip. He stared at the dull pink color in his hand, rolling the paper listlessly between his fingers. From somewhere above, the sound of steady, ticking hands.

“I just wanted it to stop.” He whispered.

He had been drunk off his ass, of course. Alcohol had never been his poison, but at that time, it seemed like a good idea. Grief was tough to handle when you felt like you deserved it. He hurt, everything hurt, and the pain meds were just… there.

“What happened?”

Tsunade did not judge him, as far as Naruto could tell. She had probably seen much worse, in her profession. But Naruto felt judged, all the same. Shame, guilt, pain--it was all a jumbled ball of violent emotions, and in an act of self-preservation, Naruto shut it all down.

“I got what I deserved.”

 

* * *

 

“Menma.”

Naruto smiled patiently. “Yes, detective.”

Shino--shades guy--frowned at him.

“Menma Namikaze. You know, you seem familiar.” Shino mused, looking at him thoughtfully. “Menma. Namikaze.”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

“I call bullshit.” Sai chipped in, scribbling a quick sketch on his notepad. “I looked you up. No Menma Namikaze on record.”

“He’s under protective custody.” Kiba gritted his teeth, for the hundredth time. “So shove it.”

“So you say.” Sai mused, twirling his pen with a flourish. “Where are you from… Menma?”

“From Suna.” Naruto replied.

“See, I know that isn’t true either.” Sai said in a sing-song voice. “Too much fire in you. You’re definitely from Konoha.”

Naruto shrugged. “You got me, officer.”

“Sai, please.” He smiled. “How about I take you out for a drink?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sai.” Kiba groaned into his arms. “What’s taking so long, anyway?”

“Shikamaru’s clearing things up with Neji ‘nii-sama.”

Hinata, the quiet girl with the dark hair, turned out to be a real cop. She worked in Drug Enforcement, which explained her presence there. It also made sense that she dealt more with drug victims and human trafficking. Though why she chose the profession was still a bit of a mystery.

“Fucking Feds.” Kiba groaned. “Can’t stand all that red tape. Hey, Hinata, have you tried politely asking Hyuuga to take the stick out his ass?”

“You’re welcome to try, Detective.” Came the cool reply, and immediately, everyone in the room straightened to attention.

“Agent Hyuuga.”

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

“So you’re our protective custody.” The man, tall, imposing, with intimidatingly long, dark hair, was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. “My name is Agent Neji Hyuuga, FBI.”

“Menma Namikaze.” Naruto parroted the alias he was given. “Hooker.”

Behind him, Kiba swallowed a loud snort.

“He fits the profile.” Hyuuga ignored him, nodding towards Shikamaru who looked thoroughly harassed.

“We can’t involve civilians in the investigation--” Shikamaru stressed.

“Of course not. That would be irresponsible of us.” Neji replied coolly. “Unless, of course, we have a volunteer-- which would be madness, of course, because no one in their right mind would readily put themselves in the line of danger.”

Naruto gave a wry smile.

“Are you implying I’m a double agent, agent?”

“You seem very eager to join the cause, Mr. Namikaze.”

Naruto shrugged. “I’m getting paid for this, aren’t I? Starving artists gotta eat.”

Neji simply raised an eyebrow.

“Look,” Naruto raised his hands. “You’re right, I’m an outsider, and honestly, I don’t give two shits about your cause. Truth is, whether you like it or not, I’m going to be out there, trying to find ways to make ends meet. And if what you’re saying is true, one way or another, I’m going to get dragged into your little drug ring. And maybe I wouldn’t mind so much! I hear the pay is outstanding.”

“To be a criminal, yeah.” Kiba muttered.

“It just so happens,” Naruto turned his coquettish smile at Kiba. “That your agent got to me first. So I thought I’d offer him a shot.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” Neji commented dryly.

“Oh, agent.” Naruto batted his eyes at him. “You know me so well. I’ve got conditions, of course.”

For a few moments, there was only silence. And then Neji finally cracked a small smile.

“Name it.”

“I want amnesty and immunity for Sabaku Gaara, all charges dropped.”

Kiba began to choke.

“If you catch us a big enough fish, we’ll consider it.” Neji replied. “What else?”

“A reward, in cash-- and I get to keep whatever earnings I get on this gig, legal or otherwise.”

“This is extortion.” Shikamaru muttered, digging a finger in his ear.   

“Within reason.” Neji agreed. “Anything else?”

Naruto smiled, a bit dark. “Just one. ”

Neji tilted his head, waiting.

“Once within your custody, I reserve the right to speak with an Akatsuki member, face to face.”

Looks were thrown across the room at the outrageous request. Curious, and more than one apprehensive face littered Naruto’s periphery, but he kept his eyes firmly on the cool, assessing gaze of Hyuuga Neji.

“Very well.” Neji finally replied, and turned to Shikamaru. “Have the papers drawn up as soon as possible.”

Shikamaru threw up his hands in disgust and slinked away, muttering under his breath. Neji swept one last glance across the room, as if daring anyone else to speak up. No one did.

“You must really want to catch these people.” Naruto commented.

Neji stood gracefully, looking down at him from his elfin nose.

“You’ll figure out soon enough, Mr. Namikaze. Cut off one head, and another one grows in its place.”

“What does that mean?” Naruto couldn’t help admiring the wealth of dark hair swaying as the agent walked away.

“What we are dealing with, is not one man, or many.” Neji smiled darkly. “Rather a very, very bad monster.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re going, then?”

Naruto hid a smile. Even without turning around, he’d know that voice anywhere: whispers like sandpaper, and years of whiskey and smoke.

“Duty calls.” Naruto regarded the clothing on his bed with a critical eye. “Do you think I’d need a yellow bolero while I’m there?”

He turned to appraise the figure draped by the doorway like artwork. Naruto knew that people followed his own golden hair and golden skin with covetous eyes;  but Gaara… Gaara was remarkable. Pale, so pale, his skin glinted like marble, stained by the blood red of his hair. Black kohl lined his green eyes, like an artist’s insistent ink. Lithe, sensuous, his every movement was lethal grace so effortless, it made gods green with envy.

“You look like a vampire.” Naruto commented, eyeing his black ensemble.

Gaara looked at him, in his own unreadable expression, and Naruto calmly met his gaze. It was something he’d learned over the years: patience.

“You said you were never going back.”

Naruto raised a brow, smiling slightly.

“I also said I wouldn’t sleep with you.”

It was as inevitable as the sun rising. Naruto had been reckless then, a newcomer in Suna, drunk with madness and grief, and already stepping on important toes and getting in the crossfire of a gang war on territory. It was Gaara who got to him first, kidnapped from the back of an alley, as a hostage for negotiations. Naruto should have hated him, indignation and the stink of death was not a very good first impression. But he and Gaara took one look at each other and it was instant recognition. One denies having a monster inside until they see the same monster lurking in another.

They gravitated to each other--not that they didn’t put up a fight. Naruto has a knife scar on his side to prove it and Gaara is permanently adverse to menthols.

“What’s changed?” Gaara said, in his quiet voice.

Privately, Naruto wondered that himself. 

“Maybe I have." Naruto joked instead. "Maybe it’s morbid curiosity. Or maybe, it’s just time.”

Gaara made an agitated movement. It was subtle--Gaara was very much like a marble statue in that he kept very still, but Naruto knew what to look for.

“That’s not good enough.”

“It’s something." Naruto sighed. "At the very least, it’s something to do. I’ve been bored lately.”

Gaara pushes himself away from the door frame, sliding into the room and sinking into the frankly awful mattress. Naruto endures his bottomless gaze with the same patience and, unwittingly, fondness.

“I’m gonna miss your psycho mug.” 

Gaara's hand rose, as if parting water, and touched the face before him.

“Why do you go,” he finally whispers into the space between them, “...where I cannot follow?”

Despite himself, Naruto lowered his eyes.  

“I’m sorry.”

He was.

“But you and I both know that I have to stop running at some point. I’m stronger now.”

Their kiss is gentle, and familiar. Gaara was never a fussy person, and he would let him go, Naruto knew. Guiltily, at the back of his mind, he also knew that he was hurting him by leaving. They were all each other had back then. Naruto, with his black-hole despair and Gaara with his destructive pain. It was toxic, it was madness. But it was everything.

“You are my soulmate.” Naruto whispered against his neck. “And if I had a heart, it would be yours.”

He loved Gaara, there was no doubt. And Naruto had felt, firsthand, the dark fire of Gaara’s regard. But the hollow feeling in his chest had never left, the hole still a gaping abyss-- and some nights, it would keep him up, white-knuckled grip on Gaara’s warm body, waiting, waiting, waiting for _something_. Anything.

“I’m broken.”

Was the final conclusion. It was something difficult to swallow and even more difficult to accept. But Naruto was twenty five now, and he had done his time. He had even found some form of peace with it.

Perhaps that was why it was so, so easy. He had been surprised to find that he had a talent for making people like him. The trick was not to care. Naruto did not care if people touched his body, called him beautiful, whispered things like love, and benediction. So detached, that he barely felt the sweat on their skin, the hot breath against his back, or the ardent look in their eyes. It was easy to make them love him. And so easy to walk away.

“Will you come back?” said Gaara.

“Will you have me back?” Naruto murmured, looking at their calmly entwined hands.

“I won’t have a choice.”

Naruto could smell the resin, the dye, and blood. He looked Gaara in the eyes, they have always been a mirror. He smiled.

“Neither will I.”

 

* * *

 

He had been a wild one. ‘Demon Child’ they used to call him. He would terrorize the volunteers at the center, upend the meal cart and sneak dead mice into their bags. Honestly, to this day, he wasn’t sure what made him do it.

Attention, they reasoned. He just wants attention.

Maybe, maybe not. At 10 years old, self-reflection was not on top of the list. At that age, all he had were raw emotions. Always volatile, always strong, never a name for them. Naruto would laugh at snot running down a boy’s face, and he would cry the loudest during the sad bits during film nights. Everything was just… more, to him; and when he felt alone, it was desolation. Anger. Despair. Something black and ugly inside that bubbled up like an overflowing pot. And that was reason enough to lash out.

So yes, maybe it was for attention. Maybe it was a call for help in his young, childish way.

Naruto walked the familiar path leading down to the center, the sun starting its descent in the horizon. He was older now, and much taller, and the shadow on the graffiti-covered wall was a little longer, more menacing. He smiled to himself and bought a sweet from a street vendor he recognized, but the old man barely even looked at him. What he would have given for a scrap back then.

The center looked the same as he left it, untouched even by time. Naruto knew the grounds like the back of his palm, as he spent many days trying to leave it. The gates needed a little oil, but Naruto wouldn’t tell them that.

“You look well.”

Iruka, bless the man, always had kind words for him.

“It’s the light.” Naruto smiled, a little wryly.

“So, are you back for good then?”  

Even the crockery was the same. Naruto studied the faded patterns on his cup, absently wondering if it was the same one he drank from seven years ago. Before he left.

“Who knows.” Naruto murmured, taking a sip. Hm. The tea was different. “Wherever the wind takes me.”

Iruka had a little more gray in his temple, and a few more lines. It looked good on him, Naruto decided.

A wrinkle of worry marred his otherwise serene face.

“Does he know you’re back?”

Naruto shifted his legs, breathing in the slightly spicy aroma of his tea.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“It’s none of his business, isn’t it?” Iruka replied, a bit fiercely.

Naruto smiled amusedly. “No it isn’t. And that’s all I’m here for. Business. See how it goes.”

“You’re doing alright, yes?” Iruka reached for his hand. “You’re eating well? Not drinking too much? You’re looking healthy at least.”

“Yes, I’m well. I’m being taken care of.” Naruto replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I came by to see how you were doing, to be honest.”

“Oh, you know, same old.” Iruka sighed, leaning back in his chair. “The board is giving me hell, as usual. And these kids. They’re getting more creative by the day.”

“The little devils.” Naruto grinned.

“Not as bad as you, though.” Iruka looked at him pointedly. “They still haven’t been able to scrub that thing off that wall, you know.”

“It’s a fucking ugly wall, and you know it.” Naruto retorted, chuckling.

“You left a legacy.” Iruka accused, hiding a smile. “And now all the kids want to be you. It drives us all crazy here.”

“Well, they don’t want to be me.” Naruto replied, reaching for a pack of smokes. “Do you mind?”

“The smell takes forever to go away.”

Naruto lights one anyway. Iruka gives him a look, but accepts a cigarette.

“God, I haven’t had one of these in ages.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“You’re a pastor, not a saint.” Naruto reminded him, taking a pull.

They sat there in companionable silence, sharing a smoke in the brightly lit kitchen. In the distance, the faint murmur of chatter and children’s laughter cocooned them in a bubble, away from the rest of the world.

“The donations still come, you know. Every month, like clockwork.” Iruka murmurs, gazing at the faint glow from the end of his stick.

Naruto did not respond, watching the smoke rise up into the freshly painted ceiling.

“You can stop.” Iruka continued, softly. “It’s time to think about yourself. Live your own life.”

Naruto watched the last of the smoke disappear before getting to his feet. He put on his coat, shaking the ash off his trousers.

“I’ll visit again once things have settled down.” He quipped, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “In the meantime, you can reach me through that number. Call if anything happens.”

“Should I be worried?” Iruka raised a brow.

Naruto was about to open his mouth to reply when the kitchen door opened with a loud bang. There by the entrance stood a young boy, a bit disheveled, but eyes shining with excitement.

“It’s you! I knew it!” The boy crowed, turning over his shoulder and yelling. “It’s him, guys! I told you! He’s real!”

“Konohamaru, for god’s sake--”

“I beat you, you know!” Konohamaru--the kid--said loudly, marching up to Naruto. “I painted over your message on the East wall, and this time, I spelled it right!”

“Did you?” Naruto hid an amused smile. “Are you the little toe-rag that’s giving Iruka his ulcer?”

“Not Iruka, he’s okay. But the rest of them are shit.” The boy said firmly.

“Well then. Good job.”

“Naruto!” Iruka glared. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Naruto? Is that your name? Naruto-niisan?”

Despite himself, Naruto smiled and roughed up the boy’s hair.

“Keep your nose clean and an eye out for Iruka, you hear me?”

“Don’t touch the hair!” Konohamaru exclaimed, grabbing at his head.

Naruto gave a nod to Iruka, who was rolling his eyes good naturedly. As he walked through the door to leave, in a spur of the moment, he tossed Konohamaru his lighter-- an ostentatious orange monstrosity engraved with his initials.

“Give ‘em hell, kid.”


End file.
